


Knock Three Times

by hi_irashay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Basically just some gooey bullshit for which I will NOT apologize, Caretaking, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, FEELINGS AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Well it's a threesome of KISSING so there's that, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_irashay/pseuds/hi_irashay
Summary: Three doors.  Three knocks (or lack thereof).  Three points in time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [deepbutdazzlingdarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepbutdazzlingdarkness/pseuds/deepbutdazzlingdarkness) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
> 
> Andre the sugar baby? A/B/O? Andre trying to seduce them into a threesome? Vampires? Them taking care of Andre one of the many times he's been injured? I'm down for literally anything.

The sound of breaking glass echoes in Andre’s empty apartment, shards flying everywhere.   _Damn it_ , he’d reached for a glass with his injured hand.  His body was on autopilot, not yet used to the injury, and found itself unable to fulfill even the simple task of getting a glass from the cupboard. _God fucking damnit._

Andre stares at the shattered glass on the counter, hardly noticing the deep throb of the injury that had caused this mess in the first place.   _Can’t grab a glass, can’t hold a stick, can’t do anything._  He clenches his good hand into a fist, holding himself tightly for a few seconds, before releasing with a deep sigh.  Nothing to be done for it now, he supposes. Nothing but weeks of rehabbing and focused PT.

He’s pulled out of his head by a soft knocking at the door.  Casting one more glance at the shards on the countertop, Andre goes to answer.  He can’t tell if he’s surprised or not to see Nicky standing on the other side, eyebrow quirked expectantly.  Either way, Andre just gapes at him for a full five seconds, drinking in the sight of the first teammate he’s seen in days.  And it’s _Nicky_.  Andre’s heart flutters a little in his chest as the moment stretches between them.  

“Are you really here?” Andre blurts out.  This wouldn’t be the first time he’d experienced a painkiller-fueled mirage.  Only one way to find out for sure. He stretches out with his good hand and pokes Nicky hard in the chest.  Nicky huffs out a laugh as he playfully allows himself to be shifted a step backwards. Andre sags in relief as Nicky pushes past him to enter the apartment.

“How are you doing, _unge_?” Nicky asks, turning to face Andre now that he’s fully inside.  His gaze turns scrutinizing, and Andre feels his face warm under the attention.  He’s always liked Nicky’s eyes on him, no matter the circumstances.

“Andre?”  Nicky prods again, moving closer and reaching out a hand to cup Andre’s cheek.  Nicky peers into his eyes, probably noticing the opioid-induced dilation, before dropping his hand to Andre’s shoulder and giving it a small shake.

“Sorry, sorry,” Andre finally replies.  “I’m fine, had a bit of a… clumsy moment just before you came in.”  Andre drops his gaze to the floor, feeling a small curl of embarrassment blossom in his chest at the mess, at all of it.  Of course this is when Nicky shows up. Of course.

“Ahh,” Nicky makes an understanding sound as he turns his head to survey the apartment, hand still a gentle pressure on Andre’s shoulder.  He seems to be immediately drawn to the shimmering pile of glass on the counter, makes a “hmm” sound, and turns back to Andre with a gentle squeeze.

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right there.”  Nicky lets his hand drag down Andre’s good arm as he moves toward the kitchen.  “Have you eaten anything recently?”

Andre thinks - it has been several hours since his last meal.  Perhaps the reason the painkillers seem to be hitting him so hard.  “No, I guess not?” he calls at Nicky’s back, feeling slightly unsteady as he veers towards the couch and sits down hard.  He lets himself sprawl a bit, propping his feet up on the coffee table and hunching his shoulders forward.

He hears Nicky bustling around behind him, the slight tinkle of him shifting the broken glass.   _Is he cleaning it up?_ Andre’s face burns - at Nicky seeing him like this, Nicky taking care of him like this, feeling so obligated to clean up after Andre fucks up.   _God, what a mess._  Andre cradles his injured hand against his stomach, now at just a dull ache, slouches down further, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Drink this.” Nicky’s voice is soft to Andre’s left.  He opens his eyes to see Nicky holding out a glass of water.  Andre reminds himself to use his good hand to take it - he won’t make that mistake twice - and takes a long drink, draining the glass.  Nicky takes it back and says, “I’ll be right back.” 

Andre settles back in against the couch and hears Nicky puttering around the kitchen again, the sound of the tap refilling his glass and a few soft beeps that mean Nicky has something in the microwave.  It isn’t long before Nicky returns, handing Andre the water and placing a plate of some reheated leftovers on the coffee table by his feet. Andre takes a sip of water and sits up straighter, letting his feet fall to the floor as Nicky plops down beside him.  Andre reaches for the plate and settles it in his lap, feeling slightly dubious about having the coordination to feed himself.

“You could have called, you know,” Nicky says, bumping Andre’s shoulder with his own.  “I’ll always come for you.”

Andre sighs, unable to look at Nicky, focusing instead on the food.  He pushes it around the plate with the fork loosely grasped in his good hand.  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t call, huh?” Andre knows he sounds petulant, which both is and isn’t his intent.

Nicky laughs, relaxing back against the couch and stretching his arm out against the back.  “Well that doesn’t sound like the Andre I know.” His tone is fond as he bends his arm to sink his fingers into Andre’s hair, ruffling it gently.  “Guess I shouldn’t have let you get all independent on me lately.” Andre melts into the touch, slouching closer and closer into Nicky’s side. The plate in his lap tips precariously before Nicky grabs it with the hand not in Andre’s hair and puts it back on the coffee table.

“Shut up,” Andre mumbles, giving up all pretense and snuggling into Nicky’s side.  He buries his head in the juncture between Nicky’s shoulder and neck, breathing in his familiar scent.  Nicky’s hand continues its soothing path through Andre’s hair. “Just… stay with me for a bit?”

It’s been awhile since he let himself take comfort from Nicky, take comfort _in_ Nicky. If Andre’s honest, he hasn’t done this since last season.  Nicky’s right that he has been trying to be more independent, to “be big boy” as Ovi would tease.  Andre wasn’t sure if this was still a role Nicky wanted to play for him, but god help him - Andre needed someone to do it, clearly.

“I will, _min_ _älskling,_ ” Nicky murmurs.  Andre shivers slightly at the term of endearment, feeling at once utterly pathetic and terribly cared for.  He closes his eyes and lets himself relax, enjoying Nicky’s warmth and the feeling of Nicky’s hand on him.  They stay like that for a bit, before a soft vibration by their hips alerts them to a text on Nicky’s phone.  Andre opens his eyes to watch Nicky pull it out gently to check.  It’s three texts, and Andre almost rolls his eyes when he sees the name on the screen.

[OVI: Is baby OK?  ((((((( ]

[OVI: If not, he will be.  You take best care]

[OVI: Tell him - hurry back]

Andre feels a stab of annoyance at being called a baby.  A stab of jealousy at Ovi knowing how Nicky takes care. A stab of fondness at the order to hurry back.  Too many stabs, really.

Nicky’s hand stills momentarily in Andre’s hair, as if he can read his thoughts, before chuckling and leaning forward to put his phone down on the coffee table.  When he straightens back up, he pulls Andre firmly against him. “We’ll answer him later,” Nicky says, the hand in Andre’s hair sliding down to his shoulder and his other hand coming around to meet it.

Fully encircled, Andre lets himself sag against Nicky once more.  He swears he feels the ghost of something across his forehead. Likely just a puff of air as Nicky breathes, but Andre likes to imagine it was a kiss.  His eyelids feel heavy, and Nicky is just so warm and comfortable…

Andre wakes up alone, fully sacked out on his couch with a blanket pulled up over him.  Still blinking awake, he notices a foil-covered plate on the coffee table in front of him.  Right next to it is a full glass of water, his next dose of painkillers, and a note in a familiar scrawl.

 _Eat, drink, take these, and get into your bed._ _I’ll be by in the morning - no need to call._ _xx, N_

Andre smiles, and complies.


	2. Chapter 2

Andre still hasn’t come down from the post-win high by the time they make it back home to DC.  They made it to Conference finals,  _they fucking made it_.  Fuck the second round and fuck Pittsburgh forever.

He paces around his apartment, not feeling like sleep is possible but also not sure what else he could do.  His body is tired - the bone-deep exhaustion that sets in during the playoffs, the late flight back from Pittsburgh - but his brain will not quiet down.  This would be a perfect time to go bother Nicky, but… he can’t do that right now. Not when Nicky is still injured, still scratched. With a couple of days before the next round begins, they’re all feeling hopeful that he’ll be back in against Tampa.  But they won’t know until they know.

Andre runs a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes.  He can’t get Nicky out of his head. He wants both comfort and to comfort.  Nicky made it clear that Andre could call on him… and, well, he had said “always.”

Andre makes up his mind, grabbing his keys and heading for the door.  He opens it, only to pull up short when he sees his Captain standing in the hall, arm raised as if he were just about to knock.

“Ovi?” Andre blurts out.  “What are you doing here?”

To his credit, Ovi looks just as confused as Andre feels, one hand still raised and the other wrapped around a bottle-shaped brown paper bag.

His continued silence worries Andre, grating against the edginess he’d already been feeling.  So he asks, trying to keep a note of panic out of his voice, “Is everything alright?”

That seems to get through to Ovi - he shakes his head, lowers his hand, and grins toothily at Andre.  “Yes, yes, of course everything fine - we just beat Shitsburgh, what you think?” Ovi pauses for a second, tilting his head to one side.  “I just want to come say hi to Baby Burky, be your fake Nicky for one night.”

Andre laughs.  “I was actually just going to go see him, want to come with?”

Ovi shakes his head,  “Better to not, let me come in instead and we hang.  Like old times!” Andre can’t remember the last time he and Ovi hung out, just them, and the thought sobers him.  He steps aside to let Ovi in to his apartment, closing the door behind them both and following Ovi into the kitchen.

Ovi places the brown paper bag on the island and starts opening cupboards at random.  “I bring the good stuff, special occasion.”

“Cups are above the sink,” Andre calls absently as he pulls the bottle out of the bag to study it.  Clear liquid and Cyrillic writing on the label. Vodka then, Andre is unsurprised to note.

Ovi sets 2 glasses down on the counter and takes the bottle out of Andre’s hands.  He pours them both a generous measure before flopping down unceremoniously onto one of the island’s barstools.  He gestures expansively at the barstool next to him, imperiously inviting Andre to take a seat in his own home.

Ovi holds his glass up in a toast, and Andre obediently clinks his glass against it.  It’s a silent toast, and they both sip their drinks the contemplative quiet that follows. Andre fidgets in his seat, still feeling slightly edgy and buzzing.  He’s viscerally aware of his leg jiggling. Definitely aware of it when Ovi brings the hand not holding his drink to clamp down on Andre’s thigh.

“Calm down,” Ovi commands.  Andre stills his leg and takes a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh of air.  “Take another,” Ovi says, hand still warm on Andre’s thigh as he goes to take a second sip of vodka.

“Another what - drink or breath?” Andre shoots back, sticking his tongue out at Ovi.

Ovi laughs, before answering, “Both?”  Andre grins back and makes a show of taking another deep breath, relaxing his shoulders and swallowing another mouthful of his drink.

“Good, good boy.” Ovi puts his glass on the counter, still half-full, pushing back so his stool is balanced on the back two legs.  He hangs there for a moment, before letting the stool fall forward and turning sideways in his seat to face Andre head-on.

“You worried about Nicky?” Ovi asks, his gaze oddly intent.

“Yeah,” Andre answers honestly.  “Are you?”

Ovi’s eyes wander to settle somewhere over Andre’s shoulder, unfocused.  After a moment, he slumps a little in his stool and responds - “Always.”

Andre nods, understanding the sentiment.  “We have four days. He can be better in four days, yes?”

Ovi snorts.  “He say he’s better now if he thought anyone would believe him.”  Ovi shakes his head and reaches for his glass, taking a long gulp.  He sets it back down on the counter, tapping against the rim with one finger.  “But yes, I think he gonna be back for Tampa.”

Andre lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  Something about the quiet confidence in Ovi’s voice makes him believe.  Andre knows none of them feel right without Nicky out there with them. Especially not Ovi.  Ovi may be their Captain, but Nicky is his center.  _Their_ center.

“I hope so,” Andre says, casting his eyes downward at his own glass.  Ovi makes a small sound, scooting his stool closer to Andre’s and gently knocking his head against Andre’s shoulder.  He leaves it there for a moment, and Andre feels the warm puffs of Ovi’s breath down his arm. Andre tilts his head to the side so it just grazes the top of Ovi’s.  It’s a small gesture, but Ovi’s satisfied hum makes Andre think it is appreciated.

Ovi straightens up, slouching back into his own seat and smiling softly at Andre.  “We gonna be OK, Burky,” he says, gruff but certain. He drains his glass and then pushes back from the counter, standing to leave.  He hesitates only slightly before placing a hand on Burky’s head. It feels like a benediction. A heavy one, a lasting one. Andre finds himself pressing up against it, and he doesn’t think he imagines Ovi’s hand ghosting over his cheek as he drops it, but who can be certain.

Andre stands to walk Ovi to the door, not quite ready to be alone just yet.  Ovi grins at him - Andre is willing to admit he is less than subtle - and wraps him in a gigantic bear hug.  Andre sneaks his arms around Ovi’s waist and holds on just as tightly, hoping to give as much comfort as he is taking.  They stay like that for a long while, long enough for Andre to stop counting in breaths and start counting in minutes.

“Thank you, baby,” Ovi whispers in Andre’s ear, before pulling back to hold him at arm’s length.  His hands squeeze gently at Andre’s shoulders, eyes warm and smile kind. “Look at you, such big boy now.”

Andre blushes.  “Tables had to turn eventually, old man.”  He winks, more confidently than he feels, and is rewarded when Ovi throws his head back in laughter.

“Yes,” Ovi says, eyes still dancing with mirth.  “But not everything have to change.” With a wink of his own, he tweaks Andre’s nose before opening the door and stepping out.

Andre grins and shakes his head, closing the door behind his Captain.  The restless energy from before seems to have been replaced with a more manageable feeling of fond amusement.  He puts the vodka in the liquor cabinet and their glasses in the sink, turning off the kitchen lights as he heads into his room.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Andre wakes up from the best dream ever. He’s laying on top of the covers in champagne-soaked clothes, in one of Nicky’s guest rooms, because Nicky is an adult who has a house and guest rooms.  The soft light filtering through the window tells him it is sometime in the late afternoon. Andre sits up in bed and scrubs a hand across his face, blinking slowly as he wakes up fully.

 _It wasn’t a dream_ , he realizes with growing delight.  They actually won the Cup. He knows it’s somewhere in this house - Nicky’s house - and he tries to rouse himself to go find it, and Nicky, and whoever else is here, too.

A loud noise against the door - like a body running into it - startles Andre to move out of bed, swinging his legs over until his feet hit the floor.  

“Burkyyyyyyy,” Nicky calls, as someone else ( _Ovi?_ ) begins to cackle.  “You’ve been out long enough, time to come back.”  Nicky bursts through the door and his grin widens at the sight of Andre.  “There you are,  _min_ _älskling,_ ” Nicky coos.  Obviously still drunk, as the Nicky Andre knows would NEVER do anything as sappy as  _coo_.  No matter how much Andre might have wanted him to.  “Have a nice nap?”

“Yeah, you supposed to be the best baby party boy,” Ovi slurs as he trips into the room after Nicky.  “Why you so sleepy?” He barrels past Nicky to join Andre on the bed, sprawling out next to him in a slightly ungraceful dive.  Ovi turns himself around, lays on his stomach, and props his head up, chin in his hands. He regards Andre, and continues. “We miss you, Nicky so sad you not with us.”

“I’m not  _sad_.” Nicky sounds indignant as he moves closer to the bed, much more gracefully than Ovi had.  “I just want to make sure he gets to celebrate.” Nicky is standing by the bed, close enough to touch - he stretches one hand out to ruffle Ovi’s hair, and the other to Andre’s.  An impressively coordinated move for someone as drunk as he seems, in Andre’s opinion. “He deserves to celebrate, as much as he wants.” Nicky’s eyes are impossibly fond on Andre’s, and Andre can’t help but nuzzle his head up into Nicky’s palm in response.

“I was just coming back out!” Andre mutters, closing his eyes as Nicky digs his fingers into his scalp.  Andre drops his head down as Nicky’s fingers stroke down to his neck, caressing him softly.  Andre hums at the sensation, his body tingling in a way that can’t just be blamed on the alcohol.

Ovi makes a considering noise next to him - Andre wonders if Nicky is doing the same scalp massage thing to him - and Andre feels the bed dip as he shifts a bit closer.  Ovi is a warm line against Andre’s side, and Nicky’s hand on Andre’s neck feels amazing.

“Well, we come to you first,” Ovi says.  “And now we all together.” Andre smiles, eyes still closed, blindly reaching out a hand to find Ovi’s shoulder next to him.  He pats it a few times, then lets his hand just rest there, flexing his fingers slightly against the muscle.

“Yes,” Nicky echoes.  “We are together.” Nicky’s voice sounds odd, so Andre opens his eyes to investigate.  Nicky’s cheeks are flushed, and he keeps darting his gaze between Andre and Ovi. Nicky stops his idle caresses and moves to wrap his hand around the back of Andre’s neck, sending a bolt of heat down Andre’s spine.

Andre looks down at Ovi only to find him already looking back, smirking, and Andre notices that Nicky’s got his hand around the back of Ovi’s neck too.  Almost without thinking, Andre moves his own hand from Ovi’s shoulder to join Nicky’s, pressing both their hands down onto Ovi’s neck. Nicky makes a quiet, choked-off sound and Ovi’s eyelids flutter shut briefly, before the latter pushes himself up onto his knees.

“I think the baby is on board, Nicky,” Ovi practically purrs, draping an arm over Andre’s shoulders and reaching for Nicky with the other.  “He looks so good, being so nice.” Andre flushes at the praise, watching Ovi wrap an arm around Nicky’s waist and pull him closer. They stay like that for a moment, arms around shoulders, around waists, around necks.

Andre takes a breath before finding his voice.  “On board for what?” He tries to sound as innocent as possible, to not betray the excitement he feels growing in his gut.  The tingling throughout his body has heightened into a rolling boil, anticipation coursing through his veins.

For a brief instant uncertainty flickers across Nicky’s face, but then his features smooth out.  He squeezes his hand around Andre’s neck one last time before bringing it around to cup Andre’s chin, tilting his face upward.  “Whatever you want, Andre.”

Andre can’t stop his mouth from falling open in a gasp.   _This can’t be real, this can’t be finally happening.  Too much, too good._ Nicky takes advantage of that fact to thumb at his lower lip, sliding it further up until it’s fully inside Andre’s mouth, and Andre's mind shuts down completely.  Andre sucks on Nicky's thumb instinctively, earning a hitched breath from Nicky and a low moan from Ovi.

“See Nicky?  I tell you,” Ovi says, tone satisfied.  “He in to this, in to you.” Ovi’s arm is still heavy around Andre’s shoulders as he snakes his hand up from around Nicky’s waist to his shoulder, pulling him down.  “In to us,” Ovi murmurs, before surging upward to crush his mouth against Nicky’s.

It’s Andre’s turn to moan around Nicky’s thumb as he watches them kiss, Nicky fisting his other hand in Ovi’s hair to keep him at the right angle.  Ovi keeps moving his hands - over Nicky’s shoulders, up to his face, down his back. Their eyes are closed, seemingly lost in one another, so Andre gives Nicky’s thumb another hard suck to remind them he’s still there.  Watching is fine and good and all, but Andre  _wants._ Nicky curls his fingers around Andre’s chin, tapping them against his cheek in recognition, before pulling back from Ovi and gasping for air, his eyes bright.

Ovi giggles and lets his head fall forward to rest on Nicky’s chest, mouth shiny as he watches Andre.  “Look at him, being so patient.” Ovi licks his already wet lips and winks at Andre.

“For once,” Nicky counters.  But then he’s moving closer, closer, pulling his thumb out of Andre’s mouth and immediately replacing it with his own mouth.  It’s heaven, just like Andre always suspected it would be, Nicky’s lips somehow both soft and firm against his own. The hand that was in Andre’s mouth is now against his cheek - Andre can feel the traces of moisture on the thumb - and another hand on his shoulders. He doesn’t know who the hand belongs to, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s too much input to process in this drunken state, and Andre feels momentarily overwhelmed. He pulls away from Nicky reluctantly, bringing a hand up to grab at Nicky’s shoulder as he breathes.

“Fuck,” Ovi is pushing himself off of Nicky’s chest to sit upright on the bed, following Andre’s lead.  “You guys look so good, I want-” What he wants remains a mystery as a huge yawn tears its way out of his throat, leaving him slumped and rubbing at his eyes.  Nicky laughs above them, somehow still standing, and Andre tugs him down with the hand on his shoulder. Nicky goes easily, falling next to Andre with an “Oof.”

Andre lies back and is almost exactly where he wants to be, but not quite.  So he reaches out to make grabby hand motions at Ovi until he gets with the program, bodily heaving himself up the bed until he’s lying on Andre’s other side.  Andre sighs happily, sandwiched between them and feeling so, so safe, comfortable, and contained. He turns onto his side, leaning his head on Nicky’s shoulder and throwing an arm behind him to pull Ovi flush against his back.  Ovi moves easily, gently pushing Andre's arm back in front of him and following with his own arm, tight around Andre's waist. It’s perfect, _they’re_ perfect.

“Yes, good,” Ovi muses, nuzzling his face into the back of Andre’s neck and petting at his belly.  “We sleep now, do tomorrow.”

“We’ll still have won the Cup tomorrow, you know” Nicky adds, sleepily.

“Fucking right we will have,” Andre pumps a fist into the air above them before letting his hand fall over Nicky’s waist, grabbing at his shirt to try to pull him closer.  Nicky complies, inching sideways until he’s flush against Andre’s front and Andre’s head is securely in the center of his chest.

The last thing Andre notices before he sinks into sleep is Nicky’s hand coming to rest on Ovi’s forearm, completing the connection between them all.

**Author's Note:**

> ... OK real talk, I claimed this prompt when I was drunk and thus full of drunken hubris at my ability to deliver on what you wanted. I am very, very worried that I made it too #Feelings and not enough of literally anything else. I hope you enjoy anyway??
> 
> ... also because I was drunk, in my head I thought this was due in mid-July instead of now. This means the fic in general is a rushed MESS, and the last section specifically is NOT WHAT I HOPED IT WOULD BE (sorry). But, maybe I can add to it one day and take it to sexy new heights?
> 
> Thank you to @maypolegoat and @angelheadedhipster for the support and beta, as always <3.


End file.
